


No Better Shoulder

by MsJackofAllFandoms



Series: No Better Shoulder, No Finer Place [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Slash if you squint, hand holding, heavy drinking (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms
Summary: Roger came to remembering getting drunk, he can remember the band’s collective lack of coordination, and Freddie, of all people, swearing at them for it, trying not to laugh as he alone manhandled their long limbed guitarist and not doing too much of a good job of it.He doesn’t remember coming to lie half over Brian like he's some sort of barnacle.
Relationships: Brian May & Roger Taylor
Series: No Better Shoulder, No Finer Place [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054646
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to fix up my 5+1 fic (yeah, remember that? Me too) and chopped out a bit that didn't quite fit the scene. And I put that scene into a new file. And then expanded that, gave it a beginning, and ended up with this.

Roger came to, remembering getting drunk, he can remember the band’s collective lack of coordination, and Freddie, of all people, swearing at them for it, trying not to laugh as he alone manhandled their long limbed guitarist and not doing too much of a good job of it.

He can remember being shoved into the bed in his hotel room.

He even remember turning shortly after the bed dipped, to find Brian had been unceremoniously shoved down next to him, and the other man gazing up at the ceiling in awe, leaving Roger wondering what the other man could be possibly seeing up there, in his vodka soaked state.

He doesn’t remember inching closer and he certainly doesn’t remember deciding to lie half over Brian like he's some sort of barnacle. And he doesn’t remember his hand being grasped firmly between both of Brian’s.

But it clearly happened. Because when he came to, the first thing he became aware of is that he was lying on top of a bony chest with his chin hooked over a shoulder and a lot of hair in his face. His hand being held loosely and light snoring coming from someone who is not him.

It was… nice. Not that he’d admit it out loud but, it is. The hangover, not so much, but the shared warmth and the solid presence and, even the hand holding. It was _nice_.

He could hear Freddie in his hand, mockingly, _Rog you old romantic sod_.

And sue him, he _is_.

Except, him and a Brian aren’t _like that_.

And yet, here they were. 

He shuffled, trying to do the proper thing and separate them. Brian whined and turned slightly on to his side, still asleep, maybe still drunk even. But he didn’t let go of Roger’s hand and so Roger’s whole arm has practically been absorbed as an extra limb by the guitarist. The movement also pulled him around too, because of course Brian turned away from him. He’d find it funny if he didn’t feel so put out. He was not a teddy bear! Roger Taylor was a drummer, in a mega famous rock and roll band, with their very own number one single!

He tried to pull his arm back.

“Shhh,” Brian whispered sleepily, eyes still closed. Roger wasn’t sure he was fully awake yet and couldn’t bring himself to go further to ensure he was. “It’s alright, I’ve got it.”

“Yes I know you do, Bri, but I want it back now!” Roger hissed, and pulled again, this time more firmly.

The guitarist cracked his eyes open with a gasp. Clearly half asleep, not ready to break through to full wakefulness yet, in neither body, mind or spirit. Roger could sympathise. It was still dark outside.

Luckily Brian understood the situation enough and he let go of the hold he had on Roger with a confused little hum. He kept blinking heavily, clearly trying to make sense of the situation at hand and failing to do so.

Something inside of Roger hurt at the sight, at the _notion_. Brian, stuck between wakefulness and sleep, confused at the sudden turn of events… very likely still drunk, because he isn’t just a lightweight, he’s a lightweight who went hard and heavy with the shots to keep up with the rest of them tonight, to celebrate...

Roger was too hung over for the guilt growing in his stomach, and he sighed. He put one arm around Brian’s waist ( _again_ ), took his hand in his own, then with one arm under his own head, rested his head next to Brian’s on the pillow. “It’s alright, Bri, go back to sleep.”

Brian hummed again, in reply, sleepily, _drunkenly,_ peacefully, and closed his eyes. He rubbed his head against the pillow, for reason Roger was not sure of but it seemed to do the trick, and drifted off to sleep. The feeling in Roger’s stomach eased off.

And then, cos it was still dark outside, cos he felt like he had a slab of concrete trying to expand out of the confines of his skull, Roger closed his eyes and drifted off too. It was, he assessed at a later time, a nice way to fall asleep.

Maybe he’ll do it again, sometime.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This this is more of a coda than a second chapter, but I had this half written for the last one and I took it out because it wasn't working for me at that time. 
> 
> It was @OneGoldenGlance that made me think about working on it some more, and so I did, and here it is. I know it's a short add on, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

The second Brian woke up, he was immediately aware of a dull headache pounding right behind his eyes, or in his eyes, or it was his eyes. It hurt to  _ blink  _ and  _ breathe _ . The second thing he became aware of, was a warm and  _ sweaty _ weight over his shoulder, and that his hand was being held loosely by someone else. Someone with calloused hands. He risked opening his eyes and held back a groan at the assault of the light coming in through the cheap thin curtains, and turned his neck a bit. This pain was familiar in a way that reminded him of a weekend from his first year of university, and he could vaguely remember promising himself  _ never again. _

But here he is, and so was...

“Roger??” Brian gave a double take, much to his own head’s agony, and tried to shake the blonde off his shoulder. “Oi.”

Immediately the blonde grumbled. “Oi to you too.” Roger mumbled into his shoulder, then cuddled in even closer for a few seconds before groaning and moving away. Though not very far, just enough to separate all limbs from each other and give them both a bit of space. “Perfectly fine when you want me all over you but now it’s oi. I see how it is.”

And then Brian was hit with a whisper of a memory from sometime in the night, barely there but not lost completely. Not a dream, but he hadn't been able to make much sense of his surroundings through the drunken haze. He knew he had been holding on to something, and someone wanted to take whatever it was off him… 

He clearly hadn’t been holding on to Red, because she was safe, he knew she was locked away with their luggage by the roadies, nowhere near the room, let alone the bed. And if Roger was there then it was highly unlikely, even in his own drunken state, that - had Brian somehow got her back out again - that he'd have let Brian try and keep the guitar in bed with him incase she was damaged…

_ So… _ Brian thought.

_ Did he… _

_ Did Roger mean… _

_ Had he been….?  _

“Oh god.” He said, out loud. His voice grated on his own auditory nerves. He felt a hot blush hit his face and made it’s way all down his body. He pushed his face into his pillow and groaned.

He heard Roger snicker next to him. “Remember then, do you?" His head was sharing Brian's pillow and Brian could feel the warmth of Roger's left leg from where it let mere inches from his own right leg. "Yeah, you’re more bonier than my usual cuddling partner but you were warm enough. I can’t complain really..."

Brian groaned again into his pillow. Roger was the type of man who would either laugh things off and never mention them again, or when the mood took him, bring things up constantly even years after the fact, with much exaggeration as he could get away with. It was hard for Brian to tell right at that moment, which way Roger would go. The laughing could be a bad indicator.  


He slowly lifted his head up and looked over his shoulder, and hoped his brain wasn’t really about to burst through his eyes, like it felt it was. He glimpsed at Roger, with the covers just part way up his body, yesterdays clothes still on, with his head laying on his bent arm, right arm over his stomach and chest. He would have been looking right at him, except Roger had his eyes closed. He looked completely content and not annoyed or uncomfortable at all. 

Roger sleepily opened his eyes and looked at him, a smirk formed then it softened to a smile. "Go back to sleep, worry about the world later." 

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from KT Tunstall's No Better Shoulder.


End file.
